


The Last of Them

by purple_skeleton



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adventure, Clan Lavellan - Freeform, F/F, Post-Game(s), Post-Trespasser
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-06-03 07:12:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6601657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_skeleton/pseuds/purple_skeleton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two months after the events of Trespasser, Mal Lavellan decides to track down those who may have survived the massacre of her clan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Mal sat on the cold stone steps inside Josephine's office. Or rather, the room that was once Josephine's office. The desk had been cleared, and many of the books packed away and shipped off to Antiva. Josephine had decided to leave a few, as many of the books that had filled the Inquisition's shelves had already been in Skyhold when they'd arrived, dusty but eager for new readers. The furniture, too, remained as they'd first found it, though the Inquisition banner had been taken down from the wall.

The past few weeks had been strange. It had been almost two months since Mal had officially disbanded the Inquisition, and Skyhold had gradually grown quiet and still. The hosts of scouts, soldiers, mages, and other followers had trickled away once they were told they no longer had reason to stay. The mounts and cattle were cleared from their stables, and much of the weaponry and supplies had been divided or claimed and taken elsewhere. Even those members of the Inner Circle had gone their separate ways, beginning new pursuits and leaving the Inquisition behind them. Skyhold had served its purpose to them, and now was preparing to sleep again.

Mal held up the letter in her hand, scanning it again. The writing was sloppy, but legible enough for her to make out. It began with Sera's assertion that she hated writing letters and hated relying on things other than her arrows to deliver them. Then it outlined new information she had received from the Friend of Red Jenny stationed near Wycome. A doodle of a bow and arrow was scribbled in the corner, and on the side was what appeared to be a bandit with X's for eyes and an arrow in his groin.

Mal took a deep breath. She was not sure whether she felt nervous, hopeful, or worried. Perhaps it was all three.

She heard Josephine's footsteps tapping the stone floor as her former advisor entered the room. "There you are, my love," the Antivan woman said, crossing her former work space to Mal. "The eluvians are tightly secured, and our party is almost ready to go. What are you doing?"

"Reading this letter," Mal told her as she stood. "For about the fourth time."

Josephine craned her neck to peer at the paper. "Is that from Sera?"

"How did you know?"

"I have seen enough of her drawings to recognize her hand from a mile away. What does she say?"

Mal glanced down at the little bow and arrow drawing. "Do you remember how I told you that one of the Jennies thinks some of my clan might have survived?" she said. "Well, he contacted Sera."

Josephine stilled. "And?" she asked, eager but hesitant.

"He hasn't found anyone, dead or alive," said Mal. "But he thinks he knows where they may have gone. He spoke to a travelling merchant in Wycome who had mentioned trading with a few Dalish elves who seemed a bit worse for wear. Sera didn't mention how many of them, just that the Jenny has reason to believe that the elves were Lavellan and they may still be near Wycome, possibly heading west."

"That is good news, yes?"

Mal turned her eyes out the window. The day was bright, and strangely, the view of outer Skyhold no longer looked like home. "It is good news. It means some of my clan survived the massacre two years ago. But it's been two years, Josephine. They haven't contacted me, and I haven't heard a word about them until now. They must still be in hiding, or otherwise too weak and few to allow their whereabouts to be known. If they're still out there, they must need help."

 _And who will give it to them?_ Mal thought to herself. _Who can they trust? The city-states of the Free Marches are all but purposely ignorant of the Dalish, and the Inquisition no longer exists. The Inquisition is what failed them in the first place._

She stared at the letter. She stared at the last line near the bottom: _You plan a game of hide-and-seek in the Free Marches, you invite your mate Sera._

"Mal?" Josephine stepped closer, reached a concerned hand to Mal's shoulder.

"I'm going," Mal said.

"Going?"

"I'm going to the Free Marches to find them. If I'm not the last Lavellan, I need to know. Sera has offered to join me, and with Red Jenny's help, we might be able to figure out where they are."

Josephine regarded her, weighing Mal's words behind hazel eyes. "This contact," she said slowly. "Does he truly have enough information for you to go off of? If the survivors of Clan Lavellan are hiding or on the run, they will be very difficult to locate. There is currently no way of contacting them, and they could be nearly anywhere."

"I know," said Mal. "But I need to try." She knew how crazy she must sound, how she surely seemed blinded by hope. Maybe she was. But she felt the pull of something inside her, urging her to follow this lead no matter how thin it was. _I need to try. I need to know._

Josephine's face softened and she took Mal's hand in her own, gave it a squeeze. "I understand," she said. "If you really must do this, then I support you."

Mal nodded with a grateful smile. "I could be gone weeks. You're sure you're alright going back to Antiva by yourself?"

"Of course," Josephine replied. "The merchants I have been corresponding with are expecting my arrival, and I will be able to visit my family. There will be a place for you at my side whenever you return."

Mal leaned in and kissed her cheek. "You're too good for me."

"Hah. And yet you managed to win my heart. Besides, I know you are not as enthusiastic about moving to Antiva as I am."

 _So she's noticed_ , Mal thought sheepishly. It wasn't that she didn't want to go to Antiva. She wanted to be wherever Josephine was, and Antiva seemed as good a place as any. But, for some reason, she found it difficult to actually _look forward_ to it. Was it the thought of Antiva becoming her 'home'? Mal was finding that, recently, 'home' had been a strange word for her to deal with.

But she let the thought pass and said, "I promise once I'm through with this, I'll be yours to show everything there is to see in Antiva."

Josephine smiled. "You will not be bored," she said. "Come. We should prepare to leave. And you have a letter to write."

Mal tucked Sera's letter into her jacket, and the two of them walked out through the castle's spacious front hall to the stairs leading down into the upper courtyard. There was silence between them until they reached the bottom. "Do you think about it often?" Josephine asked softly.

Mal looked at her as they set foot on the dewy grass. Josephine did not meet her gaze, and her face held careful, almost hesitant thought. "About my clan?" Mal asked. "Yes," said Josephine. "About what happened to them. You never talk about it, and you were not allowed much time to mourn when it happened. Is it still something that occupies your thoughts? Does it still hurt?" Mal flexed the phantom fingers of the left hand she no longer possessed. "Not so much anymore," she said. "I've had two years to grieve, and the feeling is long past. But I suppose it does cross my mind from time to time. Dalish spend our whole lives in a tight-knit community, and our home is wherever our clan is. It was one thing to simply be away from all that when I was recruited to fight the Breach, but losing any chance of going back . . . it was like a line had been cut. I was close with our Keeper, and my clan made up almost everyone I really knew. I don't think a loss like that ever fades. Not really."

Josephine was quiet for a moment. "I am sorry," she said. "What happened should not have happened. We . . . I . . . did everything I could to protect them. I cannot imagine how it must feel."

Mal stopped walking, causing Josephine to halt beside her. She took the Antivan's hand. _Sweet, sympathetic Josie_ , she thought. _You can't be responsible for everyone's problems._ "It's alright. Like I said, I'm past grieving. This quest is just something I need to do. If not for me, then for them."

Josephine curled her fingers around Mal's. "You have always been so noble," she said with a slight smile. She seemed to pull herself out of some thought and turned her eyes to Skyhold's great iron gate, which they could just see being raised in the lower courtyard. "But our first task is leaving these mountains. We can figure out the rest on the road."

They proceeded to the lower courtyard, where a group of people laden with large bags-the last of the Inquisition's belongings-prepared to depart. Mal's red hart, Pyrite, stood waiting for her with her long enchanted staff strapped to his back. Mal offered Josephine her hand to assist her onto her horse. "I think perhaps this should be the other way around," Josephine said, pointing her eyes at the knot tied in the elf's half-empty sleeve.

"Oh," said Mal. "Habit."

The party settled onto their mounts as the gate clanked into its fully open position, and they began to trickle through it. Mal did not look back as she followed the rest. She had already said her goodbyes to Skyhold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -I will try to update this fic weekly and always have the next chapter finished or in the works, but no promises :p  
> -I'm estimating it to be about ten chapters long??  
> -There will be violence but nothing very explicit  
> -For those who haven't played as Lavellan, you can see what happens when Josephine handles a certain operation here: http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Protect_Clan_Lavellan  
> -I was inspired by this: http://prismavore.tumblr.com/post/134396565223/a-keeper-is-sworn-to-protect-the-clan-until-death


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mal and Josephine meet with Sera before the journey to the Free Marches begins.

            They traveled east out of the mountains and up along the edge of Lake Calenhad, headed for the coastal city of West Hill. That was where Josephine had arranged for a boat to pick them up and take them to Antiva City. Only now, Mal would be dropped off in Wycome along the way. They were now on their third day of travel, only one away from their destination.

            Mal patted Pyrite's chestnut-coloured neck as they moved up the road. The red hart had scarcely tired during their journey, as his large frame gave him long legs that would put him far ahead of the rest of the group if he did not go at an easier pace. Josephine rode her chestnut-coloured horse-Willow was its name-silently at their side, eyes unfocused as she watched the empty road ahead.

            Mal steered Pyrite closer to Willow. "Are you alright?" she asked.

            Josephine blinked out of her reverie and looked at Mal. "Oh," she said. "Yes, I'm fine. I was merely thinking."

            "About?"

            Josephine turned her gaze forward again. She opened her mouth, but hesitated before speaking. "Ah, it's nothing."

            Mal raised an eyebrow. "You're not worried, are you?"

            "Of course not," said Josephine. "I've seen you some back from fighting Venatori, demons, dragons, and Corypheus himself. I have no concerns about your journey in the Free Marches." She hesitated again. "I was just . . . thinking about Clan Lavellan. I . . . never told you this, but I have always felt somewhat responsible for what happened to them."

            _So it's true_ , Mal thought. _She does feel guilty_.

            "There was nothing else you could have done," she tried to assure her. "Duke Antoine's troops arrived too late, and even they tried their best. The fallout had nothing to do with you."

            Josephine sighed. "But perhaps Cullen's troops or Leliana's skirmishers could have gotten there faster. They would have been dispatched right away. Instead, your clan had to wait for my letter to reach Wycome, the Duke to read it, and only then have his men be assembled and sent out. I should have known how long it would take. I should have insisted you assign one of the other advisors to take care of the operation."

            She sounded as if she would go on, but Mal cut her off. "Josephine," she said gently, "You have nothing to feel guilty about, and you can't hold onto the past. Believe me."

            Josephine tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "You're right," she said, but Mal was unsure whether she'd actually been convinced. "I apologize. I do not mean to compare my frustration to yours."

            Mal offered her a smile, hoping to cheer her up. "You have a real knack for feeling bad about nothing, don't you?"

            Finally, Josephine smiled back.

            The subject did not come up again that day. The rest of their progress was quiet and swift, and they arrived an hour earlier than expected the following afternoon. West Hill was a bannorn modest in appearance but ample in size. Situated right on Ferelden's northern coastal border, the sea could be seen from a number of spots along the road. Mal had never been here, yet she still found herself hyperaware of people's gazes. For the past two, almost three, years, she had traveled carrying the representation of the Inquisition, and people across Thedas had come to pick her out as the infamous Inquisitor. But now, she was just someone passing through. No banner or crest, no official business, no longer any title. The strangers going about their business along the road spared the occasional glance to the heavily-laden party, but no more.

            She wasn't anyone special anymore.

            They led their mounts through the bannorn to the harbour, where a handful of ships and boats were docked. The largest one, a reasonably sized but not overly spectacular merchant ship, Mal assumed to be the one Josephine had arranged to ferry them across the Waking Sea.

            "The owner of our vessel said he has business here, and will meet us when it is time to leave," Josephine said. "We have a few hours until then."

            They stopped in an open area near the docks and dismounted. Josephine paid their traveling companions for their efforts before giving them orders on where to take their cargo and who to speak to to see that it was taken care of appropriately. Mal knew the arrangements just as well as her, but let the other woman take control. Josephine had determinedly taken charge of the organizing of the arrangements, and Mal figured she was simply in her element.

            They thanked the company before it split apart to do as bid, and Pyrite stretched his neck. Mal stepped over to him and scratched his white muzzle. "I know you're craving an open field right now," she murmured. "But you'll just have to be patient."

            "Mal," said Josephine, coming up next to her. "I have done some more thinking since yesterday, and I did not tell you all of my thoughts when you asked me."

            Mal turned to her. "What is it?"

            Josephine's eyes were fierce and sure. "I am coming with you to search for your clan."

            Mal blinked. That was something she had _not_ expected. "You want to come?" she asked, dropping her hand from Pyrite's muzzle. He flicked his head in disappointment. "But . . . Josephine, we don't know what kinds of things we'll run into, or even where exactly we're _going_. Sera and I have experience dealing with bandits and rebel mages, and with spending nights in the middle of nowhere. And we might not even find what we're looking for."

            Josephine folded her arms. "I am fully aware of what I am asking," she said. "I may not have the same experience as you, or, I admit, even the same skill. But I do have _some_ training in self-defense. And I am willing to put up with the . . . discomforts the journey may bring. For most of the time you have known me, you have seen me as an ambassador and a tradeswoman. But surely you will not make the mistake of thinking that is all I am."

            Mal weighed the assertiveness in Josephine's voice, in her stance, in her eyes. And she trusted her. "Okay," she said. "But why? You know Sera and I can do this ourselves, and you had plans for when you arrived in Antiva. Why do you want to come so badly?"

            Josephine let her arms drop. "I don't think you will like the answer."

            Mal sighed. Was there a way to convince her she wasn't at fault for Clan Lavellan's fate? "Josephine . . ."

            The Antivan woman held up a hand. "But that is not why I'm coming. Not because I feel like I must, to scrub away my guilt. I am coming because it feels like the right thing to do. I want to help you in any way I can, whether you need it or not."

            "Only if you're sure," Mal said.

            "Completely," Josephine said with a nod.

            "Alright. I should go meet Sera. You'll take care of the last of the cargo?"

            "Yes. I'll meet both of you back here in two hours."

            Mal left Pyrite and Willow with Josephine and set out in search of the tavern. She'd sent a reply to Sera from the first village they'd encountered on their way to West Hill, telling her to meet them there to catch the boat to the Free Marches. She'd sent it to her in Lothering, where Sera had mentioned she was in her initial letter. Lothering was a day or two closer to West Hill than Skyhold, so with the time it would have taken for Mal's letter to reach her, Sera should have arrived only recently.

            Mal found a building with _West Hill Bed & Beer_ stamped on a sign above the door. Oddly, the inside had a heavier smell of sea salt than the outside. There were people, mostly human, situated at tables throughout the room, many of them looking to be sailors or fishermen. Mal began scanning the room for her friend, but was saved the trouble by a shout from the back. "Oy! At the back!"

            Sera waved her arm from the table she was seated at in the back of the room, and Mal smiled as she approached and sat down. "Good to see you, Sera."

            "Don't get all sappy. We just saw each other a few weeks ago for that heist," Sera replied, though her smile was friendly. Her jagged bangs were getting longer, almost touching her blonde eyebrows, and she still wore that grey bandana around her neck.

            "I wouldn't call it a heist."

            "Fine. Just gently sticking some arrows in some guards to break into a mansion, then. " The fair-haired elf took a swig of her drink, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. "Anyway, I'm glad you asked me along. Been getting a bit bored since Widdle had to take a break from making bees into little bombs. Got too many stings on her cute little face."

            "Dagna's in Lothering with you, then?" Mal asked, curious.

            "I'm not really 'in' Lothering," Sera replied. "Not like that, anyway. I'm just . . . hanging around. But, yeah, she's been with me. Says hi, by the way. But enough about tiny girlfriends. Daven's the name of our mate in Wycome, and I told him to dig up whatever else he can before we get there. Dunno if there's much to dig up, though. You Dalish are sneaky types, even when you've got your full clan in tact."

            "So he thinks they may be going west, further into the Marches?" asked Mal. "Anything else?"

            "Like I said, not much," said Sera. "The merchant he talked to didn't have much to say, and when Daven went back to where the merchant traded with the elves, they were gone. But see, Daven's a tracker. No trained mabari sniffer, so he can't just hunt them down for us, but he knows a few signs when he see them. And those signs pointed west."

            Mal nodded, thinking. "That will make them harder to find," she said. "But I've lived my life traveling the wilderness of the Free Marches, so we won't be completely directionless. They'll probably be sticking to safer, more closed places, and they've made camp in a lot of places like that while I was with them. If we're lucky, we'll be able to find them somewhere they've stayed before."

            "Right. Luck," said Sera, swallowing the last of her drink. "Sometimes you have to make do with it."

            Soon they left the tavern and began their way back to the harbour. "What happened to your horse?" Mal asked.

            "Don't have a horse," said Sera. "Prefer feet with toes."

            "Then how did you get here in time?"

            "Hitched a ride. They didn't know it, but their wagon was mighty convenient. Could have done without getting tossed around with all those potatoes under that tarp, though."

            Mal shook her head, but also smirked. She shouldn't have expected any different. "We'll get you one in Wycome. You'll need it."

            Sera shrugged as they neared the docks. They spotted Josephine talking animatedly with a man whom Mal assumed to be the owner of the merchant ship they would be sailing on. As the two elven women approached, they heard that the conversation was in rapid Antivan. The man seemed annoyed, and Josephine appeared to be arguing with him.

            "She's either getting us a great deal, or getting us to Wycome faster than the wind," said Mal.

            Sera snorted. "Forgot how much I like your Josie."

            When the conversation was finished, Josephine handed the man a pouch filled with gold coins before he turned to board his ship, grumbling. She waved the elves over to where Pyrite and Willow were waiting. "Hello, Sera," she said. "I hope you are well."

            "Like a nug in a mud puddle," said Sera. "What was all that angry talk about, then?"

            "I told him we now only need passage to Wycome instead of all the way to Antiva City," Josephine explained, "and I would pay him accordingly. He wanted the full price of going to Antiva, but I managed to persuade him."

            Mal almost felt sorry for the ship owner. "That's my girl," she said.

            Sera looked back and forth between the two of them. "Wait," she said. " 'We'?"

            "Oh, I forgot to mention," said Mal, taking Pyrite's reins to walk him onto the ship. "Josephine is coming with us."

            Sera blinked and stared at Josephine, who was taking the reins of her own steed. "You?" she asked incredulously. "But you're shiny dresses and feather pens and fancy words! And you want to come running around the middle of nowhere chasing elves and cutting down bandits?"

            "All I ask is that you trust me as Mal does," Josephine replied. "I can help, and I will. But we can discuss it later. Our vessel awaits."

            Sera twisted her mouth skeptically, but said no more, and followed Mal and Josephine onto the boat.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group reaches Wycome, and makes plans to begin their journey west into the Free Marches.

            It took them ten days to reach Wycome. Two of those days had seen rain, but otherwise the sailing had been fair. Sera had spent a large part of the voyage exploring every possible nook and cranny of the ship trying to "find a place where things might be", much to the annoyance of the captain. She had also somehow gotten her hands on a piece of chalk, and by the time they were halfway up the Waking Sea, there were a dozen palm-sized doodles scrawled on various planks across the ship, many of them crass. Mal could not count the times she'd heard Josephine scolding the rogue or apologizing to the captain.

            As for Mal herself, she had spent the voyage mostly keeping to herself, contemplating what lay ahead. If she was honest with herself, she really had no idea whether they would be able to find a single member of her clan, or if the elves that Daven had heard about were even Lavellan. If they weren't, this entire trip could be for nothing. But she had to ignore that possibility, because at this point, not trying and never knowing was worse than trying and failing.

            They pulled into Wycome's harbour smoothly, docking and bringing Pyrite and Willow up from below decks. Both mounts were in less than pleasant moods, being cooped up on a boat for over a week. Pyrite nearly swiped the head off one of the crewmen with his antlers by accident. They thanked the captain-who would still be taking the rest of their luggage to Antiva City to be handed off to an associate of Josephine's-and walked the plank from ship to dock, where a number of other merchants and sailors were bustling about their business. Mal had seen Wycome from a distance when she was living with Clan Lavellan, but had never been inside it. Three years ago, before she'd joined the Inquisition, she would have been impressed by the city's great buildings and neatly paved streets. But it was no Val Royeux, and the keep that was visible in the distance was no Skyhold.

            "Is Daven still in the city?" Mal asked Sera as they made their way away from the harbour.

            "Should be," Sera said. "I didn't have time to tell him we were coming, though. If we want him, we'll have to look a bit." She smiled. "It'll be good for you. You can practice knowing all the spots where Jennies hang out."

            The first place they went to check was a place Sera vaguely knew of, a place where smugglers and rogues tended to convene and conduct business. After asking a few people about Daven, they were told that he reportedly left the city two days ago.

            "Bloody figures," Sera scoffed. "Guess we won't be getting any help from him, then."

            A lean elven man approached them, subtlety in his movements. "Hey," he said. "Are you guys . . . _friends_?"

            Mal raised an eyebrow at him. "Uh, yes?" she replied.

            The man raised an eyebrow back, and Mal felt Sera's elbow nudge her in the ribs. " _Friends_ , Mal," she muttered. "As in Friends of Someone of a Certain Colour."

            Realization snapped across Mal's face. "Oh. Yes, we are. Can we help you?"

            "Daven left this for when you got here," replied the man, passing them a handwritten note. He gave them a nod before slipping away, quickly as he had appeared.

            The three women leaned in to read the note in Mal's hand. In it, Daven explained that the only new thing he was able to discover was the remains of a campfire two miles outside Wycome, and near that a bush that had been stripped of its berries. He also apologized for having to tend to business elsewhere and wished them the best of luck.

            "At least he tried," said Mal, slipping the note into her pocket. "Now, let's go over what we do know. "A small group of Dalish were outside the city two weeks ago. It sounded like they didn't appear to be coming from a camp, right?"

            "Yeah," said Sera. "Ragtag-like, Daven said. Bought some supplies or somethin' from that merchant guy."

            "It would have been trade," said Mal. "The Dalish don't deal in currency. Though if things were as bad as they sound, I'm not sure what they would have had to trade. But that was still two weeks ago. That's plenty of time for them to get leagues away."

            "If Daven's advice is anything to go on," said Josephine, "we at least have a starting point. If we go west, we may find more signs to follow. Mal, you mentioned you may be able to use old Lavellan camp grounds as a map of where they may go?"

            Mal nodded, rubbing her vallaslin-decorated chin. "Hopefully. Our plan will be to combine what information Daven gave us with my Dalish travelling experience to try and determine where they may be." She ran a hand through her short dark hair. "I suppose it's not much, but . . ."

            "It's something," Josephine said optimistically. "We should take a rest and eat, and then we can decide how to begin."

            As per her suggestion, the trio went to one of Wycome's inns and purchased a hot meal for each of them, taking time to recuperate from their long voyage. After that, they dropped by a merchant stand to get supplies for their excursion: health potions, first aid supplies, rations, and a set of empty vials for potion concoction. Mal suggested Josephine buy a knife, but the Antivan surprised her by already having one. She did, however, purchase a bow and quiver of arrows, much to Sera's intrigue.

            Once Pyrite and Willow's saddlebags were packed, Mal asked. "Any idea where we might find a horse for Sera?"

            Sera scrunched up her nose. "If you're gonna make me ride some four-legged grass-eater, I at least want one with big antlers like yours," she said.

            "I do not think harts are something we will be able to find in a city like this," sad Josephine. "But I have an idea of where we may find something like mine."

            They found their way to a quiet mews, where Josephine's words (and a piercing glare from Sera) allowed them to purchase a smoke-coloured mare named Grace, though Sera decided she would call it Snorts instead. After that, they made their way to the western edge of the city.

            "I remember there being a little river a few miles away from here," Mal said as they left Wycome behind them. "I think we should head in that direction first."

            "Whatever you say, Lavellan," said Sera as Josephine nodded.

            It was a bit odd, Mal had to admit, being a leader without a title. When her mark had manifested after the Conclave, she had been thrust into a leadership role as the Inquisitor. That had been a completely foreign and bizarre experience for her, especially when it had carried such a weight of responsibility. But she had settled into the role with a bit of time. Now there was no Inquisition for her to be Inquisitor of, yet once again she was being deemed leader. It was understandable why, of course: this quest had been her idea and frankly was for her own fulfillment, if not her clan's. But still, she wondered if the role of leader was one that would follow her from now on.

They rode along no path, just low yellowed grass and shallow hills covered in fine dirt. Mal had travelled across the Free Marches with her clan for years, and this eastern portion of it held a loose familiarity to her. She hoped that would help her track them down.

            "I have not ridden out of the wilderness like this since . . . I have no idea," said Josephine. "The air is nice."

            "Careful, though," said Sera slyly, riding up slowly from behind. "You never know when somethin' might . . . _jump out_!" She lunged her hand out into Josephine's shoulder, trying to scare her.

            To her credit, Josephine scarcely flinched, only looked mildly annoyed. "Having known you, I think I will be able to handle . . ."

            "Wolves?" Mal interjected. She nodded ahead, where a pack of brown wolves were lurking. She pulled her staff from her back as the wolves began bounding towards them, snarling. Fighting on a hart one-handed. This would be interesting.

            "No biggie," said Sera, pulling an arrow into her bowstring. "Me and Mal have taken out worse _dogs_ than this. Get it? 'Cus wolves are like dogs."

            "You can stay back, Josephine," said Mal, readying a freezing spell. "Sera and I can-"

            She was cut short by an arrow whizzing past on her left. It punctured a wolf in the neck and sent it sprawling in a spray of its own blood. But, Sera was on her right . . .

            She turned, and saw Josephine readying another arrow. "I know very well that you 'can'," the Antivan woman said, "but I do not think I will be staying back."

            Mal was not inclined to argue. Squeezing Pyrite's sides with her legs to secure her balance, she thrust the dragon-shaped end of her staff forward and encased a wolf in ice, aiming a tongue of flame at another while Josephine and Sera each felled one with an arrow. The creatures were ferocious, but there weren't very many of them. Pyrite managed to avoid the claws of one that got too close, and the pack were all down within no time.

            Sera giggled as she slid off of Snorts. "Well, well, looks like Miss Lady Fancy Grace has some bite after all," she said before going to retrieve her arrows.

            Mal looked at Josephine as she too dismounted to fetch her arrows. "Why didn't you tell me you had marksman training?" the elf asked, impressed.

            Josephine shrugged. "It is commonplace amongst nobles," she replied. "And I did tell you I had some training you had not seen."

            Mal noted a peculiar look in the other woman's eye. "Are you alright?" she asked, stopping Josephine from walking to where Sera was.

            Josephine looked over her shoulder at her. There was definitely something off about her. Was she rattled? "I'm . . . fine, thank you," she said. "We should get moving."

            They reclaimed what arrows they could and left the wolves where they lay. Mal had never much liked slaying animals, but when it was defensive, sometimes there was nothing else to be done. They continued west, the sky still blue as they reached mid-afternoon. This was it, then. The start of a quest that would end in either joy or grief. Mal did not yet want to predict which it would be.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mal considers how her companions may feel about their quest as they continue west.

            Mal was able to lead them to the river in just under two hours, where they let their steeds drink from the cool water. Josephine pulled a map of the Free Marches from Willow's saddlebag, which she had neatly folded into quarters. She unfolded and scrutinized the map, jabbing a finger onto their approximate location. "This river branches out after several miles," she said. "I wonder if the Lavellans would-ah! Sera, please, the map."

            "Sorry. Was aimin' for your face," Sera said with a grin, shaking the water from her hand. "Dalish don't normally follow rivers, though, do they? Wouldn't need to, since wandering to nowhere in particular seems to be the point."

            "That's true," said Mal. "But having a nearby source of water is usually ideal. They may have strayed from this river, but they may have also chosen not to stray far." She silently hoped it was the latter.

            "Shall we continue west with the river in our sights, then?" Josephine suggested. It was as good a plan as any, and once they and the mounts were refreshed, they continued on their way.

            "Never been this far up the Marches," Sera commented. "Did you always live around here, Mal?"

            "Clan Lavellan has always inhabited the Free Marches, as far as I know," Mal replied. "Going to the Conclave was my first time in Ferelden."

            "Do you miss it?" asked Josephine. "The Marches, I mean. And the nomadic ways of your clan?"

            Mal shrugged, though truly there was not as much nonchalance in her answer as she feigned. "Sometimes. It was the only way of life I knew for so long. But now I've gotten used to living, well, the way you do. And I've actually come to really like it. Sometimes life before the Breach feels almost like a dream."

            Further along the riverside, their left began to be occupied by thick bushes, as well as the large rocks they had been seeing along the way. For a short while, the only sounds were that of flowing river water and the trot of hooves.

            Suddenly, Sera yanked Snorts to a halt. "Hear that?" she said quietly. In an instant her feet were on the ground and her bow and arrow were in her hands, causing Mal and Josephine to reach for their weapons as well. Not a second later, a gang of bandits emerged from the brush, daggers glistening as they bounded towards the group.

            Mal and Josephine jumped to the ground, whilst Sera's arrow shot through the air into a bandit's chest. That brought the number of enemies down to five, but they were closing in fast. Mal, quickly calculating, positioned herself to capture four of them in a cone of fire, searing their flesh and evoking cries of pain and surprise. Her flames were not strong enough to stop them, however. "Stop the bloody mage!" one of them cried, his speech flavoured with the light accent of the Marches.

            Two bandits charged at Mal, but she was ready for them. She swung the bottom end of her staff up and across the air, clubbing one of the bandits in the skull and causing the other to stumble as his companion was whipped into him. Dorian had taught her that one. She leapt backwards to give herself more room, then sent a stream of electric bolts into both of her foes. With just a few more shots from her staff, they were on the ground without a chance of ever getting up.

            An unpleasant gurgling noise signalled that they were down to two enemies, as one bandit fell clutching the spot where an arrow had punctured his throat. Mal wondered if the arrow was Sera's or Josephine's. She saw that the former had scrambled onto one of the massive rocks and was firing from there, with one of the remaining bandits struggling to get at her. Josephine had backed closer to the river. She fired an arrow, but missed. Mal noticed a series or arrows lying on the ground that appeared to have come from Josephine's direction. She had been excellent against the wolves; why was she missing now?

            Mal shot a blast at Sera's attacker, who staggered back in a daze, allowing Sera a better angle to shoot him at. That took care of that one. Mal's eyes shot to the last enemy.

            He was headed straight for Josephine, who was out of arrows and stood as still as stone.

            "No!" Mal cried. A blur of frost shot from her staff, freezing the bandit just as he reached Josephine, who still stood rigidly inches before him.

            "Josephine?" Mal exclaimed. "Are you-"

            The frozen bandit tipped over onto his back, revealing Josephine's dagger lodged in his gut. She stared down at him, her hands unsteady in front of her.

            Mal was at her side in an instant. "Are you alright?" she asked, laying a tentative hand on the other woman's shoulder.

            Josephine opened her mouth, but said nothing for a moment. There was an edge in her breathing. "I . . ." she said softly. "I think so . . ."

            Mal reached down and pulled the knife out of the bandit, giving one last shot with her staff to make sure he was dead. She wiped the blade clean and handed it back to its owner. "I was afraid he'd get you before you got him," she said.

            Josephine tore her eyes away from the fallen man, though she still did not meet Mal's. "Thank you," she said. "It . . . would appear that my skills as a bard have rusted since . . . back then."

            "Oi! You two havin' a moment over there?" Sera called, waving a bloody-tipped arrow.

            "We're fine," Mal returned. "We'll move again shortly."

            Josephine tenderly slid her knife back into its sheath at her belt. "Sera does not know about my bard days," she said quietly. "If I falter so close to danger again, she will grow critical of my presence with you two."

            "Your safety is more important than her opinion," Mal told her. "I know it's not something you like to talk about, but if you wanted to tell her . . ."

            Josephine shook her head. "It is fine for now," she said. "We should move before our rogue grows impatient."

            They checked the bandits' pockets before leaving, recovering several gold coins and a small health potion. Mal eyed Josephine as they continued on, pondering. She remembered when early in their relationship, during the days of the Breach, her ambassador had told Mal about her renouncement of violence, after she had accidentally killed a fellow bard in self-defense by causing him to fall down a flight of stairs. When she'd told Mal back in West Hill that she wanted to join her, Mal had assumed she was prepared to face hostile enemies in whatever way necessary. Josephine was certainly not naive enough to think fighting would not be required. Had she underestimated herself, then?

            Mal was forced to snatch her gaze away as Josephine turned. "I am going to ride a little ahead," she said. "Call or catch up if you need me." And she kicked Willow forward, leaving Mal and Sera to themselves.

            "So how are you two lovebirds, then?" Sera asked once Josephine was out of earshot. "Buying a big mansion in Antiva? Or are you gonna live in one of those rolling tent things the Dalish use?"

            "They're called aravels," Mal replied. "And no, we haven't planned anything like that yet. But things are going well between us. Despite my protests when she first told me she was coming, I'm glad she's here."

            "Uh-huh," said Sera smugly. "Peaches and rainbows and heart eyes. That's good, then. Nice to know people haven't all drifted apart. Not yet, at least." She paused. "So you don't miss it? Living with your clan and all?"

            Mal let her gaze wander over what lay ahead of them, from the horizon and the distant spindly trees, to Josephine and Willow, to the rocks and meagre bushes they were currently passing. "I suppose I do miss it. Not the way you miss a friend who's left, or a time in your life when you were happier. I miss it the way you miss a moment in a fond memory, or a childhood toy. It hasn't left a hole in my life; I've found a new way of living to replace it, and it's not one to complain about. But even if my life as changed or if _I've_ changed, the Dalish ways will always be a part of me, and they'll always be close to my heart."

            "Would you go back to it if you could?" Sera asked. "Say Josie wasn't in the picture, and we found your clan, or you got accepted into a new one. Would you?"

            Mal thought about it. A human like Josephine would never be allowed to join a Dalish clan even through marriage, no matter how accepting the clan was, so rejoining her people was out of the question anyway. But what if that wasn't the case? "I . . . don't really know," she admitted. "I hadn't considered it before."

            "Well, I'm glad you're still hanging about where I can get at you," said Sera. "It'd be a pain in the arse to go bushwhacking whenever I've got somethin' to tell you."

            There was a pause, then Mal decided to ask, "What do you think of the Dalish, Sera?"

            Sera finally looked over at her again, blinking. "I dunno," she said. "They're smart, I guess, but also not. Smart for being able to live in the forest and whatnot and support themselves; you've got to know what you're doing to live like that. But also not, because . . . well . . ."

            "Because of our gods?" Mal asked.

            "Not just that," said Sera. "It's all the stuff you do, the rules and traditions. Like the face tattoos. What if someone doesn't want some fancy scribbles etched into their face forever?"

            "It holds great meaning," Mal explained. "Receiving your _vallaslin_ symbolizes . . ."

            "Yeah, yeah, I know," Sera said with a wave of her hand. "It's just . . . weird. And don't you get bloody shunned if you marry a non-Dalish?"

            "Some clans don't accept it, yes," said Mal.

            Sera made a face. "Good on ya' for breaking that one. Anyway, the point is I don't think the Dalish are bad or nothin', but I also wouldn't exactly go to a party with them. They're just . . . there, I guess." She stopped then, sounding as if she was telling herself to. But then she piped up, "I'd go to a party with you, though! You're a good one."

            Mal half-smiled. "Thanks, Sera." They rode a little longer before she asked, "How have you been doing since we disbanded? I mean, how have you really been?"

            Sera glanced at her, then away again. "Alright."

            Mal didn't want to prod her, as she knew her friend wasn't always up for personal inquiries, especially ones of a more serious nature. But she also refused to let her put up walls. "In the Inquisition's final days, we went through a lot," she said. "With Solas, and the elven gods. I know how you are about that sort of thing, and I never did talk to you about it afterwards."

            Sera said nothing.

            Mal took that as permission to go on. "I'm not going to try and drag anything out of you, Sera. But if you ever want to talk about any of it, or ask me anything . . ."

            "Yeah, alright," said Sera, a little abruptly. "I mean, thanks. Not in the mood for any of that, though."

            Privately as they moved along, Mal considered her friend's disposition on their shared elven heritage. Mal had not known many city elves before being thrust into the Inquisition, and had wondered whether Sera's dislike of all things elven was a common opinion amongst the alienages. After meeting more city elves, however, she had decided it was some kind of personal issue. Sera had quickly made it clear that it was not something she liked to talk about, and so Mal had not learned much about her reasons. Now, she wondered if those feelings had dissipated at all, or if they had even deepened. Forcefully rejecting the existence of a pantheon of gods only to have them proven real was surely jarring at the least.

            Eventually Josephine returned to them. The unsettlement she had been seeming to feel before was gone. "There is not much ahead," she told them. "Though there is somewhat of a path that leads away from the river, with trees lining either side of it. Perhaps the Lavellans would have used it as protection against bandits and animals while they travelled?"

            "Let's head that way," said Mal.

            They veered away from the river and out over the barren terrain. Trees indeed decorated the distance, but the blue of the sky was beginning to turn to a pale yellow, and they would likely have to stop to make camp before entering the path. It had been a long day, and Mal admitted she was exhausted. Her mind, however, was eager to move on. They had officially spent a day seeking out the remainder of her clan in the Marches. Now that the search and begun, it felt more real and solid. Success, however, was still up in the air.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mal, Josephine, and Sera find a few possible leads on Clan Lavellan.

            They spent the night under the stars near the mouth of the tree path, though Mal did not sleep much. Her mind was itching to get moving again, flooding with possibilities for what was to come and what they would mean. Yet her inevitable fatigue made her the last to wake up in the morning, after which the three of them swallowed a quick breakfast and made to follow the path.

            It was not a definite path so much as a clearing that formed a trail through the thin trees. A few birds chirped above them, and the sun glittered through the branches to warm their skin. They rode quietly, with Mal at the front and scanning their surroundings for some indication that a Lavellan or two may have been here. But what exactly was it she was looking for? A dropped item, perhaps? Shoeless footprints? She tried to keep the possibilities open, but so far all she saw were trees, rocks, and dirt.

            Behind her, she could hear Josephine and Sera. "So you've never been out like this, Josie?" the rogue asked. "Antivan nobles don't run around in the desert or the forest and shoot bad guys, I take it."

            "Not unless you consider hunting to be . . . that," replied Josephine. "I have been on a few excursions, however. Some nobles seek a sense of adventure in exploring more uncivilized areas, sometimes hunting for treasure."

            "What kind of treasure?" Sera asked, intrigued at the mention. "Like gems and gold and stuff?"

            "Some seek that type of treasure, yes," Josephine told her, "but others seek artifacts. Pieces of history, relics of times past, things left behind by those who are only remembered by time itself."

            "Gems and gold sound better," said Sera.

            "And what about you and Red Jenny?" asked Josephine. "Mal has told me about the heists and the spying. It must have taken you many places over the years."

            "Here and there, y'know," said Sera. "Mostly just around Ferelden, been to Orlais a few times. Good business for Jennies there, though I get sick of seeing all the dumb masks hiding dumber faces."

            "How long have you been a Friend of Red Jenny?" Josephine asked curiously.

            Sera hesitated, thinking. "I dunno. Long enough. I can't see myself doing anything else, really."

            "Neither can I, actually. You seem very much in your element doing what you do."

            "Yeah?" Sera sounded pleased at the remark. "Guess that's a good sign."

            "It's true," Mal threw in over her shoulder. "I can attest."

            "Hey, you're not bad at it yourself, Lavellan," Sera grinned. "Honestly, I wasn't sure you'd fit, being such a nerd and all. You're good at casting spells and climbing things, but I wasn't sure about the other Jenny stuff. But look at you now, a natural!"

            "It must be exciting," said Josephine. "Being in the middle of all of that action and scheming."

            "Exciting is opening a fresh jar of bees," said Sera. "What we do is even better."

            Mal was glad to hear them chatting so contentedly. She knew her good friend and her romantic partner hadn't been close during the Inquisition days; fair enough, as they were two radically different people. But it pleased her to see them together now, perhaps even beginning to form more of a friendship.

            She was about to add another remark to the conversation when she pulled Pyrite to an abrupt halt. Her eye had been caught by a scattering of small white bits on the ground. She dismounted and went over to them.

            "What is it?" Josephine asked.

            Mal knelt and picked up one of the white pieces. She held it up to examine and rubbed it between her fingers. "Shavings," she said, "from a halla's horn. They're used almost exclusively by Dalish, for making weapons and tools. Someone was definitely carving something here, and it can't have been too long ago if the shavings are still so in tact." She dropped the shaving and took Pyrite's reins, though she led him on foot. She wanted to be closer to the ground as she scanned for some indication of which direction they may have gone. She could spot no footprints or halla hoofprints, nor any further horn shavings. The Dalish did not hunt halla-killing such a noble creature prematurely would be unthinkable-so perhaps someone had found one already dead or dying, or there were no halla nearby and they simply already had a piece of horn? There was no evidence of-

            "Oy, Lavellan," said Sera, interrupting her thoughts. "You know where you're going? What are we even lookin' for?"

            Mal checked herself. She couldn't just get absorbed in wandering around, that wasn't the way to go about this. She needed to stop and think first. "There could be some other sign around here," she said. "Or a trail of some kind. This has to be a definite sign, if only we can figure out where it points . . ."

            "Like this?" said Josephine as she slid off of Willow and knelt to pick something up. She held up the object: an arrow tip, broken off of its shaft, with a bit of dried blood on it.

            Mal peered at it closely. "Yes! This is of Dalish make, I can tell. It's not too dirty, and the blood hasn't hardened too much; it may have fallen recently as well."

            "Do you know this area?" Josephine asked. "Do you know of any nearby places they may have gone?"

            Mal thought, trying to recollect her days spent roaming this particular area. "I think there's a big hill nearby," she said, "perfect for sheltering against wind and limiting your visibility to others. We may find some more traces there."

            She slipped the arrow tip into her pocket, and they followed the path a little longer before cutting through the trees. Mal did not remember precisely where this hill was, but she had a strong enough sense of direction and vague memories to guide her. Once they broke out of the trees, the hill was in plain sight, and they rode toward it with determination.

            The hill could perhaps have been called a small mountain. It had many nooks and crevices, and was host to a number of rocks and frail-looking flowers. It was somewhat steep, but definitely climbable. They rode around the base, eyes scanning the ground for another clue. Nothing stood out.

            "S'pose we'd see if someone was on top," said Sera, craning her neck to look up at the peak. "Could be a little cave or something, though, yeah?"

            "Maybe," said Mal, regarding the hulking body of the hill. "Let's dismount and go higher. It'll be much easier on foot."

            They tied Willow and Snorts to the branch of a short tree nearby; Pyrite, Mal assured them, could be trusted to remain untethered. Then they began to carefully comb their way up the hill.

            Sera was clearly glad to be on her own two feet again rather than in a saddle. She moved with energy, often bounding ahead of her companions while still on the lookout for clues. While she was hauling herself onto a large rock several long strides ahead, Mal stooped and plucked a light purple flower from a patch of grass. Its petals were petite and oblong, with a cream-coloured centre and a single leaf branching from its stem. She went to Josephine's side and held it out to her.

            Josephine looked at the gift with some surprise, then smiled fondly as she accepted it. "Romantic even on a serious quest," she said, tucking the flower into her belt.

            "What can I say?" said Mal as they continued their ascent. Truthfully, she had done it to distract herself and calm her nerves as much as for the gesture itself. She was finding herself balancing precariously on the border between anxiety and optimism, an odd-feeling combination to say the least. The optimism was something she was consciously trying to hold onto, because she knew it was the driving force behind their quest. But it was difficult to smother the anxiety, as that seemed to be entwined in the situation itself. She looked at the curl of black hair hanging against Josephine's temple, and the breeze tugging at the low-hanging ends of Sera's shirt, and tried to think of this mission as any other. She tried to forget about the tender ties she had to it and the grimness of it all, and just focus on the smaller task at hand.

            There came a shuffling sound from around the corner. Mal signalled for her companions to be wary. She went and peered around the corner, but there was nothing there. However, the dirt looked as though it had been disturbed only moments ago. There was another rustle from a deep wide nook in the rock, big enough for a couple of people to stuff into.

            "Is someone there?" Mal asked in a loud voice. "We mean no harm. We're only looking for someone."

            A face covered in dark blue _vallaslin_ emerged, its large elvish eyes wary. It was a brown-haired man holding a bow and arrow, though his draw on the weapon loosened as he revealed himself. Behind him, two other elves, a man and a woman, emerged as well, the woman holding a knife but not brandishing it.

            Unfortunately, they were no one Mal recognized.

            The strangers regarded them, taking in their weapons, the way they were dressed, their apparent races. " _Ma shia i vathrir irulash, ma'ni_ ," said the man with the bow. It was Elvehn, meaning, _You travel with odd company, my friend_. Mal could tell the other man, a blond one with brown _vallaslin_ , was noting the combination of her own white _vallaslin_ and her very non-Dalish clothing, particularly the presence of shoes on her feet.

            She slipped into Elvehn to speak to the strangers. "One of them is my love, the other is my friend," she told them. "We came from Ferelden to search for people from my clan, Clan Lavellan."

            The elves glanced at one another. "Our own Clan Haleil heard news of Clan Lavellan," the brunet man said, apparently the leader of the three, "though that could not have been less than two years ago. It was . . . not pleasant news."

            "I know about what happened," said Mal. "We suspect there were survivors."

            She explained the information they had received from Daven. Just before she finished doing so, Sera whispered to Josephine, "You think they're doing this just to annoy us, or they just don't like the taste of the common tongue in their mouths?"

            That earned her a glare from the female Haleil. "Perhaps both," she said in accented common tongue. Sera scowled back at her, but shifted uncomfortably in her saddle and ceased talking.

            Mal ignored both of them and asked, "I don't suppose you've seen any others around that could have been Lavellan?"

            "Unfortunately not," replied the brown-haired man. "Though we haven't been camped in the area for long. And if it helps, the elves your friend heard about outside Wycome were not from our clan."

            "What about the wooded area over there?" Mal asked, pointing in the direction they had come. "We found a Dalish arrow tip and shavings of halla horn. Were they yours?"

            "No," replied the Haleil. "But we did see a herd of halla not far from here. If a handful of your clan still live, perhaps they've recruited a few of the halla, or else the whole herd. If that's the case, perhaps you could track the halla easier than your friends." He gave directions to where they spotted the herd, in a clearing two miles north of the hill.

            "Thank you," Mal said. "We'll try looking there."

            "One other thing," said the Haleil. "Apparently a group of Tevinters has been seen roaming these parts, possibly hunting elves to take as slaves. He glanced at Sera. "Be careful." He and his companions nodded to Mal, and to her companions. "And best of luck. May the Creators guide you." The two groups parted ways.

            "Well? What did they say?" Josephine asked, and Mal summarized the conversation.

            "We're chasing halla now, then?" said Sera. "How will that help?"

            "Dalish often keep halla as companions for their practical uses," said Mal. She began to lead them back down the hill. "Those scouts were right: if any of my people passed through this area, they may have taken a few of the creatures with them. If so, we may be able to follow halla droppings, bits of hair, hoofprints."

            They rejoined their mounts and began in the direction the Haleil man had given them. Mal felt the light weight of the arrow tip in her coat pocket as they rode. There was probably no point in keeping it, but for some reason she did not want to throw it away.

            She barely noticed just how silent they were until Josephine spoke to her. "We were lucky to run into those Dalish," she said. "They gave us one more lead to go on. And we are only on our second day out of Wycome!"

            Sera chimed in too. "Yeah! We're not doin' too bad so far! Those Lavellans will be jumpin' out of the bushes at us before we know it."

            _Did I seem that glum?_ Mal thought. But she felt a rush of gratitude for her companions trying to keep her spirits up. If she was honest, this quest may turn out to be more emotionally trying than she'd expected. Had Josephine known that, despite what Mal had told her back at Skyhold? Had Sera?

            "You're right," she said to them. "We could be doing far worse." Josephine rode close beside her, offering her a small smile, and Mal was thankful to have her there. A bee buzzed near her ear, and she waved her hand to shoo it.

            "Oy!" Sera cried. Her hands plunged into her saddlebag and rifled around until they pulled out a small empty jar with tiny holes poked in its lid. "Don't wave that away! I'm collecting 'em!"

                       


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio finds clues that may be more sinister than they'd hoped for.

            "Mal, what language do you think in?"

            Mal turned her head to Sera as they rode north, in the supposed direction of the herd of halla. "Huh?"

            "Y'know, are your thoughts in the common tongue, or do you think in Elvhen? Or is it like a funny mixture of both?"

            "Well, I was raised to speak both, and as the Keeper's First I used Elvehn more often than others. But the people of my clan spoke common more than Elvehn, and of course we had to use common to speak to anyone who wasn't Dalish. So I suppose I think in common."

            "Don't you ever get words jumbled up?" Sera asked. "With two languages bouncing around in your head, you're bound to muck it up sometimes."

            "Oh, all the time," said Mal with a little laugh. "Josephine, you speak three languages. Do you mix them up too?"

            "Sometimes, yes," Josephine said, smiling. "Once I was having a conversation in Orlesian and accidentally spoke in common, then apologized in Antivan. Luckily it was only idle chat, not a diplomatic negotiation."

            "It's interesting hearing people speak multiple languages," said Mal. "You must have heard a lot of that back home, didn't you, Sera?"

            "Back where?" Sera asked.

            "Home. There must be a good deal of people from foreign places in Ferelden's capital, right?"

            "Oh, Denerim. Yeah, I guess."

            "You thought I meant some place else?"

            Sera shrugged. "Just wasn't sure about the 'home' bit. Don't really know what it means nowadays, y'know?"

            Mal looked over at her inquiringly.

            Sera gave a subtle eye roll, but elaborated. "Lived in Denerim when I was a kid, but left that in the dust first chance I got. Floated around different paces after that, wherever I felt like or wherever Red Jenny needed me. Guess I never really stayed one place long enough to let it be home."

            "Denerim isn't home?" Josephine asked.

            "If home is just where you're from, then I guess it is," Sera replied. "But if home is a warm fuzzy place where you go to breathe and take a load off, then no." She went quiet, then added, "Dunno if I have one of those."

            "Dalish never really have homes," said Mal. "We carry home on our backs. For us, home isn't so much a place as the people you share it with."

            "I think I can relate to both of you," said Josephine. "I have moved around much in my life, both with my family and on my own. But even well after I became independent, there was always somewhere I could go back to, where my family was. And as the heir to a noble house, I will always have that. So I know what you mean, Mal, about home being defined by loved ones. And I know what you mean too, Sera, about having to be adaptable."

            "So where do you think of as home?" Mal asked her.

            Josephine pondered the question. "I must admit I'm not sure. I think perhaps I am between homes right now. After this, when I go back to my family in Antiva City, I feel as if I will be saying 'I am going home'. But it strangely does not feel that way."

            "The world is a big place," said Mal. "I suppose it's easy to get lost in it all."

            Their new surroundings demanded her attention then as they came into a flat, grass-filled area. "This looks like the clearing those Haleil elves were talking about," Mal said. "Let's look around for where the halla may have gone." They spread out a little on foot, scanning the ground for tracks or droppings. The sparse grass had definitely been trod and grazed on. Perhaps a little further up the-

            "Found somethin'!" Sera called. "Not really what we're lookin' for, though."

            Mal and Josephine looked where Sera was pointing, and saw a flaming rage demon rise up out of the ground. A few feet from it, two terror demons shrieked as they took notice of the group and unfurled their long, spidery limbs.

            Mal looked to Josephine as she drew her staff. The Antivan woman's eyes were locked on the demons, and her shoulders rose and fell as she took a deep breath.

            "Don't risk yourself," Mal told her.

            Josephine drew her bow and pulled an arrow into it. "I will stay back this time," she said. "But I cannot stay out."

            Mal had no choice but to trust her. She placed a warding glyph in front of Josephine to trap any demon that tried to charge her, then charged forward herself.

            "Little help here!" Sera shouted as she fired an arrow at one of the terror demons. It screamed, though Mal was unsure whether it was out of pain or fury.

            "I'm on it!" said Mal. She froze the encroaching rage demon in place. The cold would harm it significantly, but the undying heat of its body would melt the ice soon enough. With a sweep of her arms-though it didn't quite feel right with one of her hands missing-she sent a bolt of purple lightning into the creature, which then jumped to each of the terror demons, shocking them all. She huffed. Using three spells in such quick succession had brought down her mana.

            Sera leapt backwards, firing another arrow mid-leap and snarling when the demon took no notice of the puncture. The sinister creature had its attention focused on her, but the nimble rogue was able to keep her distance while still pressing attacks. The other terror demon decided to head for Mal.

            Steeling herself, the mage fired bright blasts of magic at the thing, though her mana was still too low to cast a real spell. She managed to do some decent damage and keep her distance until the demon vanished in a wisp of black mist, disappearing into the Fade.

            A moment later it appeared mere inches in front of her, striking her with both bony hands.

            Mal toppled backwards, hitting the ground hard. The demon loomed over her, spidery arms upraised and mouth gaping unnaturally wide. She brought her staff up in time to bar the demon's blow, but the pale creature continued to press down at her as it shrieked and hissed. Mal tried to kick at it, but its body was so bizarrely long and flexible that her foot could not even get at a place to hit. She turned her face away as the demon's claws scarcely missed her. She held her staff up against it as best she could, but it was difficult without two hands to grip it, and the beast was strong.

            "Anyone?" she yelled. She tried to kick again, but was met with the same results.

            "Josie, that's you!" she heard Sera shout. "I'm kinda- _agh_ -busy!"

            The terror demon stumbled as an arrow plunged into its side from Josephine's direction. Mal seized the opportunity to try and scramble out from beneath it, but the arrow wasn't enough to distract the demon from its intent, and it pounced at Mal again. They wrestled with the elf's staff between them. Mal managed to flick a tiny lightning bolt from her hand into the demon's face, but it just enraged the creature even more.

            Another arrow whizzed past from a slightly different angle, this time missing its target. Another came and missed. _Come on, Josie,_ Mal thought as a fleck of demonic saliva hit her cheek. _I need more than arrows from you now!_ Her arms were beginning to shake holding up the staff.

            Just as the left side of her staff slipped, the terror demon screamed, this time certainly in agony. Mal felt hot liquid drip onto her coat as the enemy slumped lifelessly on top of her. She could see Josephine standing over the mess, a stray lock of hair fallen over her eye as she pulled her dagger out of the demon's back.

            Mal pushed the demon's corpse aside as she sat up and watched Josephine hurriedly send one last arrow towards the other terror demon, finishing it off as Sera huffed through clenched teeth in her struggle against it.

            Josephine offered Mal a hand to help her up. Her palms were sweaty. "Are you alright?" she asked, voice a little strained.

            Mal nodded. She planted the end of her staff on the ground to give her arm muscles a rest as she caught her breath.

            "I should have been faster," said Josephine quietly. "I tried to be better than last time, but I . . . I don't know, I hesitated and-"

            "Oy!" cried Sera as she came over to them. "You alright there, Lavellan? That was bloody close." She eyed Josephine critically.

            "I'm fine, Sera," Mal told her, wiping the demon blood off of her coat. "You?"

            Sera shrugged. "Yeah, fine. What were you waiting for, anyway?" This she addressed to Josephine. "I saw you staring when you should've been acting."

            "I know," Josephine said with remorse. "I will not make excuses to defend myself. There can be no excuses when lives are at stake. I can only apologize."

            "Fat lot of good apologies do if your girlfriend's dead," Sera muttered, turning around to scan for arrows to salvage.

            "It's over now," Mal said. She raised a hand to Josephine's face and tucked the offending lock of hair behind her ear. Josephine tried to smile at her, but her heart wasn't in it. "Back to business. Let's look around."

            After recovering a few arrows, they combed the clearing for signs of halla or elves. They did not need to look long or hard before Mal spotted a gory-looking pile that made her stop in her tracks. _Is that what I think it is?_ she thought as she went over to examine the mess.

            It was, unfortunately, what she thought it was. The remains of a halla. Chunks of flesh had been carved away, cuts clean enough to have been made by a knife rather than the teeth or claws of a predator. Most of its white hair had been skinned off, and its beautiful curving horns had also been hacked away and taken. Mal felt her stomach twist.

            "Maker's breath," came Josephine's voice as she and Sera appeared next to Mal. "The poor creature."

            "You think it was the demons?" asked Sera.

            Mal knelt before the animal. She of course had seen many dead animals before, even a few halla killed by predators or old age, but never had she seen a halla so purposely butchered. She pointed to a deep puncture in the animal's shoulder. "No demon I know would have made that. It's from a weapon," she said. "And look at the way the flesh has been removed. This was the work of a human." It saddened her to see such a noble and tender creature as a halla killed so selfishly.

            "They took the skin and horns to sell?" said Sera. "What'd they do with the meat bits? Cook and eat it?"

            "Probably," Mal said with great distaste. Sera wrinkled her nose in equal disgust.

            "I have not heard of halla being common game," said Josephine, "in the Free Marches or elsewhere."

            "There's always some dirty arsehole who sees _everything_ as game," said Sera. "Say, what about those 'Vints those elves mentioned? The slavers? Bet those are just that type of arsehole."

            "Good point," said Mal, standing. "It could have been them. And if so, that means we likely aren't far behind them. This carcass isn't more than a day or two old."

            "We should be careful, then," said Josephine. "They could have more people than us, and may not be something we wish to deal with."

            "Agreed," said Mal, though a little voice inside her wondered if other Lavellans were as close to the slavers as they were. Continuing to scan the clearing allowed them to find faint tracks, though not the kind they'd expected. They were tracks left by wheels.

            "Avarels?" Sera suggested.

            " _Aravels_ ," Mal corrected, though she realized Sera probably mispronounced it on purpose. "And it might be, I suppose. If it is a Lavellan aravel, this is a good sign. It could mean they're better off than I feared, and it's something for us to follow."

            "Somethin' for others to follow, too," Sera pointed out.

            They decided to follow the direction of the tracks, remounting their steeds and beginning to move. They'd barely walked fifty feet when Mal stopped them again. "I sense something," she said, sliding off of Pyrite. "It's faint, but it's bothering me."

            "What, with your mage-y sense?" asked Sera, eyes scanning their surroundings warily.

            Mal carefully followed her inner senses to the source of the distraction. They led her to a spot on the ground that held faint evidence of magic. As she peered closely at it, the magic behind her eyes picked up the faded outline of a warding glyph.

            "Someone cast a warding spell here," she said to her companions. "There's residual magic left over from it. Maybe from the same ones who killed that halla."

            "Could it also be from an elf?" asked Josephine.

            Mal supposed it could be, but something was telling her it was not. Perhaps she was feeling uneasy, seeing the butchered halla and having to be on unexpected lookout for slavers. She also had to wonder at the likelihood that this glyph had been placed by a fellow Lavellan. Clans only ever held three mages at once: the Keeper, the First, and the Second, with any other mages born into the clan being sent to another. Clan Lavellan had lost their First when Mal left for the Conclave. How likely was it that out of the whole clan, one of the two remaining mages survived?

            "There's no way to tell," she decided to say. "But this must be even newer than the halla. If they are from the same person, let's hope they aren't also the one who left the wheel tracks."

            They resumed following the tracks, Mal casting one last look at the remains of the poor halla, then wishing she hadn't. Halla horns were prized in Tevinter, and hunting was a common pastime there. If Tevinters _had_ killed the animal, were they the same ones the Haleils had mentioned? Could they have been the ones that cast that warding spell? Mal did not like the sound of facing a group of violent slavers, though she had faced far worse.

            While she was thinking, Sera spoke. "Hey. Josie. You're alright, yeah?"

            "Yes. You do not need to worry about me," replied Josephine. "I will not let my well-being be a burden."

            "I didn't say it was a burden," said Sera. "Just makin' sure you didn't bite off more than you can chew."

            Josephine took a breath. "Sera, I-"

            "Hold off! I know that voice. You're going to apologize again. Well, don't. Tryin' to help your friends and stay alive at the same time ain't nothin' to apologize for. I, uh . . . know what it's like to be freaked out by stuff. Trick is to fight instead of runnin' away. And if you can't fight the feelin', fight the freaky thing." She coughed. "That's what I do, anyway. That, and ignore when people like me get snippish with you."

            "I appreciate that," said Josephine tenderly. Then she asked, "Is that what we are, then?"

            "What's that?"

            "You said 'friends'." Josephine's tone had a gentle teasing to it.

            "Oh. Yeah, sure, you could be worse. Don't think it makes you immune to pranks, though."

            "Of course not."

            Their banter soothed Mal's concerns for a moment, and she was grateful for the smile it brought to her lips.


	7. Chapter 7

            The trail of wheel tracks led them northwest for a time, then curved west. They began passing more hills and lightly wooded areas. They also came across a beehive, which Sera insisted they stop for so she could coax the insects into her jar. Mal was amazed that her friend was able to accomplish this without a single sting. The tracks became hard to follow over some of the terrain, but they managed to keep a fairly consistent course.

            While they rode, the women began to talk about Tevinter slavers. Josephine explained what she knew of slavery in the Imperium and how ingrained it was in the culture. Mal mentioned what Dorian had told her about his family's own slaves and other slaves he had met during his life in his home nation. Sera asked a few questions, and recalled the way Tevinter 'baddies' tended to scream when faced with her bow.

            As long as Mal had been a part of it, Clan Lavellan had been fortunate enough to never have any encounter with Tevinters searching for elves to sell into slavery. Unfortunately, it was not terribly uncommon for such people to prey on the poor, especially elves, in other nations to bring home to the Imperium's cruelties. Dalish clans were often well-equipped and well-trained enough to withstand such attacks, and slavers often knew better than to try to take on an entire Dalish camp. But what if the clan was not whole? Fewer numbers would be far more inviting for an attack, especially if the slavers had numbers of their own. All Mal could do was hope there was no need to worry.

            As they followed the tracks, they heard the sounds of a stream, and found it edged by a grassy bank. Recognizing that they could all use it, the three women decided to take a rest there. They led their mounts to the stream to drink while they freed the animals of the packs. Josephine passed a bit of bread and jerky out for each of them to eat as a late lunch, and she and Sera took grateful seats in the grass. Mal slipped off her long blue coat and brought it to the stream to scrub the blood stain out.

            Sera blew some blonde hair out of her eyes. "This stuff is getting bloody annoying," she said. "Time for a haircut!" She pulled a small knife from her belt and gripped a chunk of her bangs in the other hand.

            "Wait!" Josephine nearly yelled. "You're going to cut it with _that_?"

            "'S how I always do it," said Sera.

            "Not when you have me here," said Josephine. She rummaged deep in one of her bags and pulled out a pair of gleaming scissors.

            "Where did . . . Why do you have those?" Sera asked.

            "I thought they may come in handy for something," Josephine replied. "Now, may I?"

            Sera hesitated, but then consented. "Alright, fine. But don't be givin' me anything fancy. Just make the front shorter. But not too short, mind." She sat and let the Antivan carefully give her a trim.

            "Have you always cut your own hair?" Josephine asked while she worked.

            "Lady that raised me used to do it when I was a wee thing," Sera told her. "I always hated it. Eventually she couldn't pin me down anymore to do it, then I learned hair is annoying."

            Mal was patting her coat dry in the grass when Josephine told the rogue she was finished. Sera brushed the tiny blonde hairs from her lap and came to kneel beside Mal by the stream, peering at her reflection in the water. "Not bad," she decided.

            "It's much straighter now," said Mal. "It looks nice."

Sera gazed down at the water a few moments longer, though she may not have been looking at her reflection. "Do they feel the same to you? The elven gods?"

            Mal looked at her.

            Sera gestured vaguely at the sky. "After finding out about Solas, and that Flemeth freak. That wasn't what your elders or whatever taught you about your gods, was it? The Big Bad Dread Wolf is some snob in an ugly sweater, and that Mythal one is . . . whatever she is. They're not what you thought they were, yeah? So doesn't that change things?"

            "It definitely does," Mal replied thoughtfully. "The things Solas told me were things my Keeper never mentioned, and almost certainly didn't know herself. It's an odd revelation, learning that the gods you've prayed to and sworn by have so much more to them than you could have known. It brought up so many questions. But after the shock had worn off, I found that they didn't feel any less real to me." She paused, watching a ripple form as Sera stirred a fingertip in the water. "Honestly, I'm still figuring it all out."

            "Sounds complicated," muttered Sera.

Mal watched her. Her friend normally didn't like any mention of elven lore or traditions. Had she been asking all these questions for Mal's sake, or for her own?

            "Well," the mage said, "I'm just glad my _vallaslin_ are the symbols of Ghilan'nain and not Fen'Harel. That would have been awkward."

            Sera snorted. Then she asked, "You think you'd be the same if you weren't Dalish? Like, if you weren't raised to have all that elven pride, if you grew up around humans who all say they're better than you. Do you think you'd still feel the same about being an elf, or would you be more . . . more like me?"

            "I want to say I'd feel the same, but I can't say for certain," Mal replied. "I've heard about life a city elf, but I don't truly know what it's like. It must depend on the person, their family, where they live, and all of those other factors. But I imagine it would be hard to escape a hatred planted in you from childhood, nurtured by a society who will profit from its growth. But perhaps escape can be easier with numbers. Gather a group of elves together, let them love each other and teach each other to love themselves, and maybe you can escape the hatred inside you. And once it's no longer inside, perhaps it's easier to fight it from the outside."

            Mal slipped her coat back over her shoulders. "I'm not saying it's a choice. I just like to hope it's not a sentence, either."

            Sera did not lengthen the conversation.

            They rested just enough to finish eating and regain their bearings before they replaced their packs on their animals and prepared to leave again. They considered going back to the tracks, but Mal proposed something different.

            "We're actually not far from a place that's been used as a Dalish campsite many times," she said. "My clan and I stayed there multiple times ourselves. It's worth a look, whether we find traces we can follow or someone there who can help."

            She and Pyrite took the lead again, with Willow and Snorts bearing their riders close behind. Mal dug through her memories, trying to recall this area and the popular camp location. Being raised Dalish, she had a knack for recognizing different terrains and natural settings, and did indeed feel a familiarity with this place. It felt a little odd, traversing these lands with not clanmates, but the unexpected love of her life and equally unexpected friend. She wondered what the rest of her clan would think.

            Eventually they turned a bend, where the land was flecked with thin trees. Through the branches, their eyes were easily caught by slashes of crimson cloth hanging a handful of yards away.

            "Those red cloths," said Josephine. "Could those be . . .?"

            "Aravels," said Mal, speeding up her pace. "There's a camp here." They rode quickly in the direction of the large red triangles, which stirred gently in the breeze. The air caused one of them to rotate, which revealed a gaping hole torn in its fabric. Mal stilled. There was no smoke rising from any campfire, no sounds of people, and another push of the breeze revealed damage to another of the aravel hoods.

            Mal cursed under her breath and kicked Pyrite into the camp. It was a space encircled by bushes, with a great mound of stone at the back of the area. Arrayed around the campsite were four aravels, all with the red silk of their sail-like hoods burned or slashed. The remains of a campfire long since burnt out sat in the middle of the site. There were other typical pieces of a Dalish camp-wooden tables, chests of belongings and supplies, meat-drying racks, a small, toppled wooden statue of the Dread Wolf himself-that had been either disturbed or simply abandoned, filling the camp with an eerie feeling of . . . emptiness.

            "Hello?" Mal called urgently. "Is anyone there? Hello?"

            There came no answer.

            Her mind raced. No clan would simply leave their camp unattended, and something had clearly happened here. Bandits? No, many things that bandits would have taken still remained, and if they had killed the elves, there would be bodies. Could it have been the slavers, then?

            "Mal," said Josephine gently. "Do you recognize any of this? Was this a Lavellan camp?"

            Mal tried to clear her head and focus. She slid off of Pyrite and looked around. "I'm sure whatever aravels remained after the attack near Wycome would have been left behind, since anyone that survived fled," she said. "If they had aravels now, I wouldn't recognize them. And it's been two years. In that time they could have replaced everything they had before, if that was anything at all."

            "Perhaps there is something," said Josephine, her feet hitting the ground as she dismounted from Willow. "I say we look around, just in case." Her eyes asked silently if that was something Mal could do, emotionally. The mage nodded.

            The three took to searching the damaged aravels and the chests that had been left unlocked or pried open. They found clothes, a few extra knives, and supplies like rope, flint, and a number of herbs. As they rummaged, Mal found she had to keep her anxiety in check. It was indeed an anxious task, rummaging through abandoned belongings expecting one of two results: that they belonged to Lavellans and something bad had happened to them, or that they belonged to someone else and there was no lead to follow. It was either directionless disappointment, or grim worry.

            "Do you see anything, Mal?" Josephine asked after they had searched the camp thoroughly.

            Mal shook her head, looking around for something, anything, they may have missed.

            "This one's locked, but I can pick it," said Sera, pointing to a dark wooden chest nestled next to one of the aravels. "Worth a look." She grabbed one of the chest's handles and dragged it into the open, then plopped down in front of it to pick the lock. The moment her bottom hit the ground, she cried, "Ow!" Leaning forward onto her knees, she pulled something out from beneath her.

            "A ring?" asked Josephine.

            Sera held up the perpetrator to be examined. Its earthy colour had disguised it on the ground. "A wooden one. Hurt like steel, though. Got little carvings on it."

            "Let me see," said Mal.

            Sera passed her the ring, and the Dalish mage peered at it closely. The tiny etchings on the outside were symbols of the elven gods, while those on the inside were that of ancient elven glyphs.

            Mal felt a surge of glee, which was immediately challenged by a feeling of dread. "This is Lavellan."

            Josephine and Sera glanced at each other. "You're sure?" asked the former.

            Mal tilted the ring in her fingers. "I have one almost exactly like it," she said. "Keeper Deshanna made two: one for me as her First, and one for her Second, Ylani. Ylani must have dropped this when . . . whatever happened here took place."

            There was silence between them for a moment, each of the trio unsure how to feel about the confirmation. So the had finally found the Lavellan camp, but no Lavellans. Where had they gone?

            "It's good, though, yeah?" Sera offered, dusting herself off as she stood. "It means they were here, which means we can find them. We can figure it out, mate." Her grey eyes scanned the camp. "I don't see any blood. Probably means no one got hurt, yeah?"

            "You're right," said Josephine. "I hate to think of it, but perhaps they were kidnapped by the slavers. This is a small camp. The number of people it would have held could easily be overpowered by a group of Tevinter mages."

            Mal clenched Ylani's ring in her fist. She could come up with no other explanation. Her clanmates would not have just left the camp and not come back, and they had seemingly been gone for a good couple of days. The camp had clearly been terrorized, but Sera's observation of the lack of blood was at least somewhat promising. She suddenly felt angry now, and her mind raced with implications and possibilities.

            She pocketed the ring and said, "Looks like it's time for some slavers to know what it's like to be hunted."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hunt for Clan Lavellan comes to an end.

            Mal was interested in going after the slavers right away, but Josephine convinced her that they would be better off waiting until morning. The three of them would move much faster than a slave caravan, and the wheel tracks-which they had decided belonged to the Tevinters' wagon-would still be there when they awoke. Their plan had changed, and so too had the dangers they were facing, and they needed to put some thought into it before diving in.

            After restocking Josephine and Sera's quivers with a few of the Lavellans' extra arrows, they made camp right there. Mal did not voice the eerie feeling she was receiving from their surroundings as the trio went to sleep, and found herself staring up at the stars long after her companions had drifted off. It was a little unsettling, sleeping in the familiar setting of her life before the Breach, but without the people that should have come with it. It felt hollow. It was as if someone had pulled a fond memory from her head and made it real, only for its colours to be dulled and its warmth replaced by a chill. She did not recall her dreams that night, and perhaps it was better that way.

            They wasted no time come morning. They returned to the tracks and followed them carefully. At times the tracks became obscured, but the trio was able to conclude where they would have been and resume the chase. They spoke little, and took only brief rests. They were all tense with anticipation. Mal could practically feel how close they were, and her companions could sense her drive.

            The sky was dark by the time they saw smoke and firelight. Slowing their pace, they crept closer to the source of the light that was obscured by the leaves of bushes. They could make out the shadowy figures of two large wagons and a handful of people situated in camp. At a hushed word from Mal, they secured their mounts and stalked forward on foot to reduce the risk of being noticed. They moved behind a bush and peered into the camp.

            There were seven of them in all, dressed in Tevinter clothing. It was difficult to tell in the darkness, but with the light of the campfire Mal could pick out three staffs, propped against a wagon or lying on top of a supply chest. Three mages that would be defending from a distance, then. The other four would likely be trained to fight in close quarters, and could prove just as troublesome as the spellcasters. Five of the slavers sat around the fire, talking and eating, while the other two were tending to one task or another around the camp. They had one large wagon stocked with supplies, and another hitched up to the back. The second wagon was taller but more compact, and was covered by a tarp. One of the slavers pulled open one of the tarp's flaps and peered inside with a haughty smirk. "These knife-ears will fetch us a pretty bit of coin," Mal could hear him say to his companions. "Clean 'em up a bit, maybe, and they'll be the perfect little pets."

            The slaver flinched back as something tiny shot out from beneath the tarp and struck him in the face. He scowled and wiped the spit ball off of his cheek. "You'll have some manners beaten into you soon enough," he growled, closing the flap and leaving the wagon alone.

            "The prisoners must be in there," Mal whispered behind the bush. "We'll have to take out the slavers before we can free them."

            "They outnumber us more than two to one," whispered Josephine. "I suggest we kill or immobilize as many as we can in one instance, then attack the rest. It will at least allow us to fight less of them at once."

            "Right, that means arrows and icy magic," said Sera. "I say me 'n' Josie stick two of the mages, and Mal freezes one of the big guys. Then we shove the Maker's fist up their-"

            "Got it," said Mal. "Get ready."

            She drew her long weapon as each of the other two aimed an arrow at one of the men closest to a staff. At Mal's signal, the arrows cut through the air to their targets, and a swirl of frost froze one of the larger men. Sera pulled a jar from one of the pouches on her belt, shook it, unscrewed the lid, and lobbed it towards the rival mages. "Knew those'd come in handy!" she grinned as she readied another arrow.

            There were shouts of panic from the slavers as they waved their arms to ward off the angry bees attacking them whilst trying to see where the offending arrows had come from. The three women seized the opportunity to send a flurry of attacks, managing to drop one warrior before the rest could ready their weapons. The two mages they'd initially wounded were not giving up so easily, however.

            "I could use a better view," said Sera. She darted towards a tree and climbed it faster than Mal would have thought possible, hooking her legs around a branch and firing from under the cover of leaves. The slavers knew where they were now, and were charging.

            Mal and Josephine split up, rushing in opposite directions while trying to use the shadows to their advantage. Mal paralyzed the nearest warrior before sending a wave of electric shocks through the rest. She shot magic bolts while her mana replenished itself, and Josephine skewered the paralyzed man through his throat.

            A blinding whiteness filled Mal's vision as she was struck with a bolt from one of the mages. She blinked rapidly as the brightness faded, though it had been disorienting and she could feel where the blow had struck her chest. It cleared quickly enough for her to see that the unfrozen melee attacker had his efforts set on Josephine. She looked to be handling him well enough, and Sera's arrows were directed at him as well. Mal mustered up just enough mana to cast a barrier over Josephine, which would repel some of the damage she may take. The warrior, armed with a long dirk, also had a barrier on him. Looking in the direction of the other mages, Mal saw that the frozen warrior was thawing.

            She fired at the mage who had not yet been harmed, interrupting his spellcasting and upsetting his balance. She could see one of the wounded mages huddled behind the supply wagon, trying to pull the arrow from his shoulder. The other stood behind the one Mal had targeted, casting smaller spells while also trying to nurse the wound in his own arm. Mal aimed for him this time. He would be easier to take out, and one less to worry about.

            Walking sideways to get her aim around the healthy mage, she thrust her power towards the weaker one, though she also had to dodge the attacks of the former. A spray of three arrows shot down from the tree at once, two of them hitting Mal's target and the other hitting the stronger mage in the foot. He swore loudly and fired a blast into the tree, causing Sera to swear even louder as she toppled from her branch.

            The mage who had received two arrows had fallen over dead. Mal ran to Sera to make sure she was alright. "Still got my neck," the rogue said when Mal came over. "But we've still got a few to break!" She tucked her slender frame behind the tree trunk and twisted to shoot at the slaver mage. Mal's eyes darted back to Josephine and saw the dark figure of the warrior fall before her. She flicked her focus to the mage, and felt at the mana within her. She'd regained enough to cast a stronger spell. She raised her staff, but half-flinched as the once-frozen warrior appeared right in front of her.

            _Stupid. Never lose track of your enemies._ The warrior roared as he raised his blade, but the shout became a choke as a small dagger flew threw the air and landed squarely in his shoulder. "Do not touch her," came Josephine's growl as she appeared behind the man, her face dark and grim. In an instant she grabbed the man by the head, pulled her dagger from his shoulder, and cleanly cut his throat. She had a small cut on her cheek, but otherwise appeared to be fine.

            " _Vishante kaffas_!" barked the slaver mage. He whipped his staff forward, sending a rolling tide of fire towards the trio. Mal answered by throwing up a wall of ice, and just in time. The fire melted the wall, but failed to pass it. The last of Sera's arrows finished the man off.

            The final enemy still cowered behind the wagon. He peered out, eyes wide, hand pressed to his bleeding shoulder. "Please," he begged as the women strode towards him. "Don't kill me. I promise I'll disappear."

            Mal's knuckles went white around her staff. _He deserves to die_ , she thought, scowling down at the man. She raised her staff, causing the man to flinch, and cracked him sharply across the head. He would wake up with a nasty bruise and the memories of this evening to hopefully teach him a lesson. It didn't give the satisfaction she craved, but it would do.

            The instant he fell over, Mal rushed to the tall wagon. Flinging the tarp aside, she saw that the wagon was built like a cage, with bars running from the sides up to a wooden roof. Inside were six elves wide-eyed and huddled in the middle of the wagon. They stared at her, and she stared right back. One of them, a teenage boy with the tree-like _vallaslin_ of Mythal, choked out, "Mal?"

            _Creators, it's Ayniel,_ Mal thought. He had grown so much since she last saw him, and his voice had deepened. "It's me," she said. She scanned the faces of the others. Sisters Emelin and Veranni held each other; hunter Rorin's mouth fell open as he stared at his rescuer; Sarad had a split lip and a look of astounded relief; Ylani pushed aside a lock of black hair to get a better look at Mal through the dimness. Six of them only, but they were here, and they were alive.

            "Sera, the lock," Mal said quickly, though the rogue was already pulling out her lockpick and coming to kneel in front of the cage's door.

            "Is anyone hurt?" Mal asked as the door swung open.

            The other elves clambered out of their small prison, Rorin supporting their mage. "They put some kind of spell on Ylani," he said, "to keep her from using magic to escape."

            "I'm fine," Ylani assured them, though the spell had clearly weakened her. "It will wear off soon, since they won't be able to recast it." Gently she brushed Rorin's hand off of her shoulder to stand on her own. Her black eyes looked deep into Mal's violet ones, trying to solidify the reality that she had just rescued them. Mal held her gaze for a moment, but then it was all she could do grasp her old clanmate in a tight hug.

            "Nearly three years," Ylani murmured as they held each other. "And here you are again."

            "I know," said Mal. She had so much to say, but none of it seemed ready to come out just yet. "I know."

            Ylani released her. "How did you find us, _lethallan_? And what in the Creators' names happened to your arm?"

            Mal sighed, two weeks of worry and travel finally catching up with her, though the sigh was just as much one of great relief. "We have a lot to catch up on," she said.

            With the unconscious slaver tied up in the supply wagon, Josephine and Sera took to checking on the would-be slaves, making sure none of them were hurt and helping to comfort those who were more shaken. They settled around the fire, warming rope-burned hands and talking quietly. A couple of them decided to sleep-though it may have been more a compulsion than a decision. Mal and Ylani sat a little apart from the rest. Mal told her what had happened, from the letter at Skyhold to finding the slaver camp. She also told her about what had happened in the past two years. She gave a summary of the major things she'd done with the Inquisition, including her attempts to protect Clan Lavellan. As she explained how she lost her arm, she wavered on whether or not to tell the truth about Solas. Her instinct was that it would be simpler, easier, if they weren't told about how their gods reincarnate themselves and how Fen'Harel himself had attempted to destroy the world. But after some hesitation, she decided they deserved to know. Ylani, at least, could decide whether she wanted to tell the others afterwards. She asked Mal a series of questions about it once the former Inquisitor explained-not that Mal had many answers-and expressed her shock, though Mal suspected it would sink in more after she'd had some time to ponder it.

            Ylani said that she and the others had seen the Breach close and heard about Mal's Inquisition defeating the Corypheus. They'd had difficulty securing a way to contact her and rarely had the chance besides, as they were more occupied with trying to keep themselves together and safe. After the devastating bandit attack near Wycome, a number of people had escaped the carnage, but not many. They had scattered, and while most of them had regrouped since then, the whereabouts of a few were still unknown.. This particular group had numbered at eleven, but five of them had managed to escape the slavers. The eleventh, Moran, had received a slaver blade to the throat.

            "I've been leading them," Ylani said once they were both caught up. "With Deshanna dead and you gone, I was their only mage. I'm Clan Lavellan's Keeper now." She shook her head. "It's been quite some time, yet it still sounds strange."

            "Try being called the Herald of Andraste," said Mal.

            Ylani smiled. "Yes, I did used to wonder from time to time how you were getting on down there, with all those templars and clerics and diplomats." She looked over her shoulder at Josephine and Sera. "But it seems you've prospered."

            It was then that Mal remembered what she had in her pocket. Fishing out the wooden ring, she handed it to the darker-haired mage. "We found it in your camp. It's how we knew the path we were following was yours."

            Ylani looked down at the ring and slid it back onto her finger fondly. "Do you still have yours?"

            "Of course," said Mal. "Although I don't wear it much nowadays. Ever since I realized I wasn't truly anyone's First anymore, wearing it felt . . . different. It became more a memory than a symbol."

            "I understand," replied Ylani. "Is that settled, then? You aren't returning to the Dalish life?"

            Mal looked over at Josephine, who had found one of the slavers' blankets and was draping it over the sleeping Ayniel. "I don't think so. I think it's time for me to go somewhere else."

            "Still sounds Dalish to me," said Ylani with a smile. "Never in one place for long."

            "What about the rest of you?" Mal asked.

            "First we'll find those that escaped the slavers," said Ylani. "That shouldn't be hard, I doubt they went anywhere we can't easily find them. After that . . ." She glanced at the Lavellan elves by the fire, her eyes thoughtful. "We're so small for a clan, if you can even still call us that. We manage, but it has not been an easy two years, _lethallan_. I was thinking we could find another clan that would take us in. I don't know how readily they would accept so many of us at once, but our lives would be far easier with a normal clan structure again. What do you think?"

            "I think you may be right," said Mal, weighing the idea. "You may have to split up, but better all of you be safe in new clans than struggling with so little support. They trust you, Ylani. I'm sure they will go wherever you point."

            Ylani nodded. "Being a mage will make it harder for me to stay with them. What are the chances we'll find a clan who will take in eleven elves and also be in need of a First or Second? But it's as you said. Better safe than struggling."

            Soon no one could keep their eyes open much longer, and the party slept. It was Mal's soundest sleep in days. When she awoke to the light of the morning, she could smell people cooking the food they had found in the slavers' stores, and hear Ylani casting a deep sleeping spell on the one they had tied up in the wagon.

            "And then when you just appeared behind him and stuck him in the throat," she could hear Sera saying, "that was brilliant. Wouldn't have thought you could move that fast."

            "That was nothing compared to you in the tree," came Josephine's reply. "And three arrows at once! You certainly know your way around a bow, my friend."

            "Pff, you got that right. But what I was tryin' to say is you're not half bad out there, once you got past all the stuff in your head."

            "I am not so sure I have 'gotten past' it exactly. I simply did what I had to. For Mal."

            "Good on you, though, yeah?" Sera sounded proud of the other woman. "Takes balls, that. Or ladybits, I guess."

            Mal rose and helped gather supplies from the camp. The plan was for the rest of the Lavellans to return to their own camp, then pack it up and pursue those who had gotten separated. Mal had considered going to help find them, but decided the best time to leave was now. She had done what she'd set out to do, and she had some semblance of where she was headed next. She would follow that path before more questions could arise.

            While that was being done, Sera came to talk to her. "Hey," she said.

            Mal expected her to say something else, but she didn't. "Hey."

            Sera scratched the inside of her ear with her pinkie finger. "So this is over, then. We found your clan, everything's good now. You're going to Antiva with your lady."

            "That's right," said Mal. "Where are you going? Back to Ferelden?"

            "Yeah," Sera said with a shrug. "Widdle's still in Lothering. I'll go there and figure out what's next. I was thinking of heading south to Kirkwall, that way I can pick up coin on the way to pay for the boat ride. Might even see Varric there. Haven't pranked that hairy bastard in a while."

            "That sounds good." There was a pause, neither of them sure how fill it. Then they both tried to speak at once. "I was-"

            "If you-"

            "Sorry, you first."

            "What? No, you."

            "I just wanted to thank you. For coming with me, and for everything you did. This never would have happened without you."

            "Well, shite, that's what I was gonna say," said Sera. "I mean, thanks for keeping me around and all. And for all the stuff you said about . . . y'know, elf stuff. You're a good mate. So thanks and stuff."

            Mal smiled. "You'll have to be sure to write us in Antiva City."

            "Told you in the other letter, don't like writing 'em," said Sera. "But I _suppose_ I could manage it now and again."

            They finished gathering the supplies, and everyone prepared to part ways. The clan north to their camp, Sera south towards Kirkwall, and Mal and Josephine east back to Wycome. The Lavellans each said goodbye to their former First, thanking her and wishing her luck. Ylani was last.

            She wrapped Mal in one last hug. "May the Creators guide you," she said. "And no matter where you may find yourself, you will always be welcome with your people, _lethallan_."

            Mal felt tears welling up inside her, but she calmed them and smiled at the young Keeper of Clan Lavellan. " _Dareth shiral_ , all of you."

            The elves thanked Sera and Josephine as well, then took their leave. Watching them go, Mal felt as if she was releasing her grip on something. It was a bit of a sad feeling, but also felt like the removal of a weight. The two darker women bid farewell to Sera then. Mal even managed to capture the rogue in a hug.

            "Alright, alright, no mushy stuff," said Sera, though she held the mage for a second longer. "Watch out for assassins in Antiva, and don't let all that Montilyet money go to your head. Anyone messes with you, you know who to call on."

            "You're sure you'll be alright by yourself?" Josephine asked. "All the way to Kirkwall?"

            Sera snorted. "I've got a fresh quiver of arrows and nothin' to hold me back. I'll be bloody brilliant." Clambering up onto Snorts, she kicked the horse south, waving and grinning to her friends as she rode away. With everyone else departed, Mal and Josephine followed suit.

            "Are you satisfied?" Josephine asked as they rode east. "There were not many of them, but they were alive and well."

            "That was all I really wanted," Mal replied. "It's not just a 'maybe' anymore. I'm not the last Lavellan, and our clan will live on for years to come."

            "I'm happy for you," said Josephine. "And for them. I'm sure they no more expected to see you again than you did a month ago. And I'm proud of you, my love. You fought hard to get here, and you saved the ones you thought you'd lost."

            "As sad as it is to see them leave again, I'm glad it's over," said Mal. "I don't need to worry about them anymore, and they don't need to worry about me. And don't go giving me all the credit. You didn't have to come, but I don't think I would have made it all this way without you. I'm proud of you too."

            The sun glinted off of Josephine's modest smile. "I don't deserve-"

            "Josephine," Mal said insistently. "Thank you."

            The taller woman's smile softened. "Of course."

            As they rode side by side, Mal thought about what was to come. Moving to the bustling capital of Antiva would be strange, though certainly not the strangest thing she'd undergone recently. The world had changed drastically in the past two years, and even more so in the past two months. And so too, she was coming to realize, had she. Whether in the wilderness or the city, Inquisitor or not, she was going to keep changing with the world around her, and she supposed she would simply have to cross those bridges when she came to them.

            "My family is so excited to meet you," said Josephine. "I've told them all about you in my letters."

            "They're not critical of you being with an elf?" Mal asked. "And one with meagre prospects, at best."

            "They were surprised at me, to say the least," Josephine told her. "But they've accepted it, and have said they support the two of us regardless of race. Though I can't promise they won't pelt you with questions about marriage."

            Mal hid her smile. "If you've taught me anything, I'll handle it with grace." She looked up at the clear blueness of the sky. "I love you, _ma vhenan_."

            Josephine looked at her, clearly wondering at the sudden show of affection.

            Mal noticed her look and shrugged, grinning. "I felt like I ought to say it."

            Josephine smiled back. "I love you too, _mi amor_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter! I had a ton of fun writing this story, and I appreciate every kudos and comment that I got. Thank you for reading!


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